


Towers of Ilium

by Stories_from_Unicron



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Forced Marriage, Gunmar is a huge bag of suck, M/M, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 01:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18768295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stories_from_Unicron/pseuds/Stories_from_Unicron
Summary: "Be still, my heart. Thou hast known worse than this." -HomerIn order to ensure the survival of his half-breed brethren, Stricklander must give Gunmar the one thing he vowed never to sacrifice.Himself.





	Towers of Ilium

"Achilles. Aeneas. Odessyus, and, yes, even young Paris himself. These heroes, and countless others fought and fell, for the fate of a city, and for love of a woman. Alas, it was all for naught."

Mr. Strickler paused for effect, scanning the classroom. The students had been restless all day, snickering and side-eyeing him, as if they shared a secret. He didn't take it personally. No matter the century, high schoolers would always be high schoolers. At least a few of them were paying attention, their wide gazes taking in the projection of Gustave Moreau's painting of the spartan queen.

Strickler gave them a moment more, then clicked to the next shutter.

"After the fall of Troy, Helen was forcefully returned to her first husband, Menelaus. According to legend, Once they were reunited, the Spartan King raised his sword to execute her, but as she wept silently, he was so moved by her beauty that he simply couldn't do it. The blade fell from his fingers, and he carried her back to his ship. And so the Trojan War ended, not with a bang, but with a whimper."

He'd made his way across the room as he spoke, and was pleased at a few startled gasps as he flipped the lights back on.

"Or did it?"

Mr. Strickler turned on his heel, making eye contact with the students that seemed most interested.

"Your assignment, due three months from now, is a persuasive essay. Was a world-rending war fought over Helen of Troy? Or should we look to the Illiad and Odyssey as allegories? The argument is yours to make. History?"

He drew out his pen with a flourish, leaning back against his desk. He wanted to time his next words perfectly.

"Or Histronics?"

The bell rang right on que and Strickler smiled, capping his pen. "I want at lease five sources, cited. You may collaberate, but be prepared to argue your position."

His pupils began gathering their books and backpacks. One of the students leaned in close to her classmate.

"You know, the war sort of ended with a bang." The other girl snorted, biting back a mouthful of giggles.

"Something to share, Ms. Wang?" High Schoolers would be High Schoolers. That didn't mean he couldn't make them squirm a bit.

"Ah, Uh, I said, Have fun on your winter break, Mr. Strickler!" Mary quickly recovered, "Remember to wear sunscreen!"

Before he could retort, Eli Pepperjack suddenly rushed into the room, leaning on the doorframe to catch his breath.

"Mr. Strickler! You gotta come quick!"

Strickler was on his feet in an instant, tucking his pen back into his jacket. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Steve and Jim, they're duking it out in the teacher's lounge! I think they've gone crazy!" Eli cried out shrilly.

Strickler bit back a scowl. This time of year was difficult enough, he didn't need the Trollhunter making it worse. "Stay here, Elijah. I'll handle this."

 

 

Walter pushed the door open to the teacher's lounge, surprised to find it dark. He scented the air for a moment, muscles bunched and ready to spring into his troll form. Bracing for the worst, he flipped the lightswitch.

"!!!SURPRISE!!!"

Steve Palchuck and Jim Lake Jr were indeed in the teachers lounge, along with Senor Uhl, Ms. Janeth, Coach Lawerence and a handful of students. The counter was covered in party food. Pizza and chips, Queso dip, Guac, sodas and even a kettle of hot water for tea.

And above it all, a hand-made banner, proudly bearing the slogan "Bermuda or Bust!"

"Come on, Walt," Coach Lawerance gave him a hearty pat on the back. "You didn't think you were going to trapeze off on some tropical vacation without saying goodbye, did you?"

Eli scurried into the room, face beaming with pride. "Sorry about the lie, Mr. Strickler." He said, pushing his glasses back into place. "Look, We got you a tea sampler! And a cake!"

Walter relaxed, putting on a properly chagrined expression. "You didn't have to make such a fuss, really."

He allowed Coach Lawerance to herd him toward the snack table.

"Senior Uhl and I arranged for the decorations." Ms. Janeth demurred, "But Mr. Lake is to thank for the catering."

"I thought you could use a reminder." Jim's hard blue eyes locked onto his teacher's. "That there are people here who care about you. Good, innocent people. Just think about that, while you're on vacation."

Walter returned the trollhunter's tight-lipped smile with a smirk. It was childish, he knew it was, but he couldn't resist goading him.

"I'll keep that in mind, Young Atlas. Take care to keep your loved ones close as well."

He examined the snack table as Mr. Uhl barked orders to the students, instructing them to 'de una linea.'

"You wanna cut the cake, Walt?" Coach Lawerance asked, passing a knife, "We didn't know if you liked vanilla or chocolate so I sprang for marble."

"Marble sounds delightful." Walter smiled. Then he glanced down at the cake.

"Is that-?"

"Shaped like a sock, yeah." Jim smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Funny mix up at the bakery. I hope that's okay, there wasn't time to _change_ it."

Walter barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"As I said. Delightful."

 

 

By the time Walt made it out of his going-away party, the sun was close to setting. He stopped to gaze up at the sky, wanting to memorize the way it looked in this moment. The vast, welcoming openness of it, the softness of the gathering clouds, the scent on the air promising rain. He took a moment to imagine changing, there and then, just casting off his human form, taking to the sky and never setting down again.

The honk of a car horn startled him out of his daydream.

"Need a lift?" Doctor Lake called out, leaning over to open the passenger door. "Radio says there's a thunderstorm warning."

Her smile brought him back down to earth, and gave him a reason to stay there.

"No Jim?" Walter asked, knowing the answer already.

"Jim's spending the night with Tobias. Something about a monster movie marathon." Barbara leaned forward, turning off the radio as he climbed in.

"So, When does your flight leave?" She asked, pulling into traffic.

"Take off is twelve-thirty. Weather permitting, we'll set down by six." Walt let out a sigh. "And my cellphone becomes a paperweight somewhere between Florida and the Atlantic ocean."

"Honestly, I kind of like the idea you had, of writing letters." Barbara told him. "Makes me feel like I'm in a Victorian romance." She grinned, "But then I'm sure you just have that effect on all your girlfriends."

"Barbara!" Walt felt himself growing red, the tips of his ears burning.

They pulled up to a red light, and she took the opportunity to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm just teasing. I trust you, Walt. You don't need to worry about that."

He lifted his fingers to his face, touching the spot where her lips had been. "and I value your trust, above all else."

Suddenly, he stiffened.

"Oh, can we make a U-turn ahead? I've just remembered, I need to stop by the museum. I'm consulting on a neo-grecian project, and I need to wrap up a few things before my flight. You can drop me off there."

 

 Too soon, they pulled up in front of Arcadia Oaks Museum. Walter set his hand on the door handle, wishing he had a Kairosect to stall this minute, just a bit longer.

"I've got something for you." Barbara reached into the back seat, producing a paper bag. "I've read way too many horror stories about Airport food, so I packed you a lunch for the trip."

"Oh, Barbara, you're too kind." He took the bag, letting their fingertips touch for a moment. "Did-did you prepare it?"

"It's a PB&J, Walt. Even I can't screw that up. There's also a Nougat Nummy, a bag of chips, and an apple. Gala, not honeycrip."

"My favorite." Walter murmured, lifting the bag to his chest. For a moment, he felt his eyes burning, and he had to press his teeth together. He couldn't let her see how much this affected him.

"Send me a text before your flight takes off?" Barbara asked, looking at him over the rims of her glasses.

"The very instant." He agreed. Unable to bring himself to say more, he forced a smile. "Goodbye, Barbara."

He turned to leave, and she reached out, grabbing his hand.

Walt turned. Told himself not to.

And then he was leaning into the car, and her lips were on his, warm, and soft and human, and for a brief instant, he felt like he was flying.

"I demand post cards." Barbara declared once they came up for air. "Only the cheesiest, corniest ones you can find. If it doesn't have a pun on it don't bother."

"Only the worst for you." Walt agreed.

"Goodbye, Walt. See you in January."

 

 

He shed his human form as he approached Killahead bridge, the tweed jacket making way for a buckskin cloak. His turtleneck replaced with a cowl of blades, the only thing that remained of his stalkling heritage. Through the changeling magic, he could feel his fangs free themselves from their illusion of venures, his skin growing hard and rough as limestone.

He ran a hand through his pepper-colored hair, letting himself settle, letting Walter give way to Stricklander.

This was who the Trollhunter saw him as.

This was what Gunmar wanted to see.

"Has the exchange been made?" He demanded, stepping in front of the bridge.

"Not yet." The Trollhunter stood in his eclipse armor, sword strapped across his back. "We're still waiting on him."

Stricklander lifted his upper lip in a sneer. "Gunmar does like to make an entrance." He clapsed his hands behind his back, spine straight. He wouldn't let Jim see how anxious he was.

The silence hung heavy between them, like an empty gallows. The Trollhunter broke it first.

"Not-Eloise is settling in pretty well, all things considered. Bagdwella's letting her bunk with her, and Blinky's talking to Vendel about trusting her with a children's library, for the whelps. She's having some trouble with losing her polymorf abilities but she's...she's trying. Everyone is."

"It isn't going to work." Stricklander closed his eyes.

"But it is working." Jim argued, "You said Gladys would never be welcome in Trollmarket, but she's convinced Rot and Gut to start brushing their teeth. You said Krax would be run out of trollmarket, but he's still delivering catmeat. I even saw him at Glug's last party. I told you, if Trollmarket can accept a human Trollhunter, then I can convince them to---"

"It ISN'T Trollmarket that concerns me the most!" Stricklander snarled, turning on Jim with burning eyes.

An infernal wind began to moan, stealing any response the Trollhunter might have had. A sickly blue glow rose from the bridge as the Eyestone flared to life, casting the room in its baleful gaze.

Gunmar had arrived.

Stricklander watched as Jim's hand went to his Eclipse blade and drew it, approaching the bridge.

"Give me what is mine, Fleshbag." Came the lumberous growl.

"I'm not opening the bridge until I know the familiar is safe." Jim stepped between the changeling and the bridge. "Eloise first."

It would never fail to amaze Stricklander, how brave the young Trollhunter was. He'd been to the darklands, he knew how dangerous Gunmar was, and how fragile the ceasefire.

That was _all_ Young Atlas would know, if Stricklander had any say in it.

There was a painfully long silence, and then a baby's cry rose about the howling of the bridge.

"Work quickly, Trollhunter. I'm getting hungry."

Jim ignored the thinly veiled threat. With a determined look, he set his blade into the floor, wrapping his hands around the handle. "For the glory of Merlin..."

The amulet obeyed, and a crack appeared in the veil between the Surface World and the Darklands.

An instant before it happened, Stricklander sensed what Gunmar was going to do.

He ran forward, arms outstretched as the changeling familiar Eloise Stemhower was thrown through the portal like a football.

"Hey!" Jim shouted. His concentration broke, and for a moment, the portal began to close.

Stricklander caught her, crouching down and setting the baby to his chest.

"She's fine! Focus on the bridge!" Stricklander told him. Little Eloise wailed at her rough treatment, and the changeling brought his forehead to hers, murmuring goblinsong until she quieted.

Jim let out a grunt of pain, his face twisted with concentration. Opening the bridge took monumental effort. Holding it open demanded even more.

Stricklander set the baby down, pulling himself together as he made his way to the bridge.

"Strickler," Jim called out.

The changeling hesitated.

"Once you've finished building the Darkland's Heartstone, you won't have to take any more trips there, right?"

"One would assume."

"And that's ALL you're doing, right? Building a heartstone?"

Stricklander expected to hear an accusation in the tone. It was with some shock, that he realized the boy was worried.

"Don't concern yourself. I know how to handle Gunmar. As soon as I'm through, take the baby and go."

His tone softened.

"Make sure no sees you at the Safe Haven box, Young Atlas. You'll find three months worth of letters in my office. I trust you'll see that they get to her."

"Strickler, wait."

He didn't give Jim a chance to finish. Lifting a hand to shield his eyes from Killahead's light, Stricklander pushed forward, into the chill of the Darklands.

The cold brought him to his knees, but Stricklander was able to feint his way into a kneeling position, so that the motion looked natural. He lowered his horns, every inch of his focus on keeping his body language submissive.

The Gumm-Gumm King towered over him, his calamitous eye settling onto the changeling like a spotlight.

"Building a Hearstone. Is _that_ what the boy thinks you're doing?" Gunmar chuckled.

"He's too young." Stricklander stood, keeping his head down. "He doesn't need to know."

"What is that?"

Stricklander froze as Gunmar lifted his Decimaar Blade, using the tip to prod at a paper bag clutched tightly in the changeling's right hand.

This entire time, he'd forgotten he'd had it.

"It's food, human food." He said, holding the bag up for Gunmar to inspect. "No flesh, unfortunately."

The Gumm-Gumm King snatched the bag from his fingers, sticking his muzzle into the top. He snuffed once, snorted, then scowled, his face twisting with disgust.

"Plants." growled the troll, letting the bag fall from his claws. He lifted a hoof, bringing it down hard.

Stricklander stood impassive as Gunmar ground his heel until nothing remained of his bag lunch.

"If it's meat you want, I can contact the Janus Order." Stricklander's heart caught in his throat as Gunmar stepped toward him, "There's a lovely new butcher's shop on-"

Rough, stone claws gripped the changeling's jaw, and a dusty thumb traced his lips.

"Oh, I have hungered, Impure, but it isn't meat that I'm craving." Gunmar chuffed, bringing his face down to examine the changeling.

Stricklander closed his eyes as the Skullcrusher breathed in deeply. Gunmar's powerful lungs mussed his hair as he was scented, and then a gust of sour heat washed over him as the Underlord sighed.

"That woman's stench is all over you." Gunmar rumbled. Envy and spite dripped from the word 'Woman'

The Troll exposed his crooked fangs, and they too, began to drip.

Stricklander closed his eyes tighter, knowing what was coming next.

A scalding hot tongue raked over his face, barbed like a lion's, and as heavy as a cow's head.

"Gunmar, please."

The Warlord reached down, scooping the changeling into his arms. There were no words as he turned and carried him toward his den, where he would be placed upon a bed of animal furs and washed more thoroughly.

Stricklander was well aware of the welcome that awaited him, as Gunmar's 'queen.'

As he was carried into the darkness, the changeling put his face in his hands and thought of Barbara.

He thought of the sky.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [31 Days in the Darklands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945390) by [Stories_from_Unicron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stories_from_Unicron/pseuds/Stories_from_Unicron)




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